


The Handcuffs Were for My Protection

by CelestialVoid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A little bit of angst, At Least That's What Derek Wants, Bad Flirting, Drunk Derek, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, Fluff, Handcuffs, M/M, Not what you think, Sexual Roleplay, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 08:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8094625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: Werewolves aren’t as infallible as they like to seem.So when Scott shows up at Stiles’ house with a very intoxicated Derek, Stiles has to resort to desperate measures in order to stop Derek from doing something they’d both regret.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a Tumblr post that I lost somewhere on my dashboard.  
> Imagine Stiles at a party, finding Derek drunk because someone had laced the drinks with wolfsbane… Imagine the following onslaught of inappropriate remarks and flirtation on Derek’s behalf.  
> It’s not quite that, but something along those lines.
> 
> Enjoy.

Stiles jolted upright at the thundering knock at the door. The pages of his text books and study notes fluttered with the sudden rush of air that trailed in the wake of the boy’s movements.

He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, making his way towards the continuous, somewhat-panicked knock.

He slid the latch across and unbolted the door before opening it.

A large figure charged at him, pushing him pack from the door and pinning him up against the wall. Broad hands settled on the boy’s slender hips as warm lips latched onto his throat: kissing, sucking and lapping at his pale skin. The heat of the man’s breath rolled across his skin as he purred, “You taste so good.”

“Derek?” Stiles asked, unable to see the man’s face, only Scott’s horrified expression as he closed the door behind them.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Derek slurred. “Miss me?”

The alpha lowered his lips to Stiles’ throat again, eagerly devouring his bare flesh.

Stiles stared at Scott mouthing ‘Oh my God’.

Scott mouthed an apology, stepping forward and setting his hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“Derek,” he urged.

Derek turned on him, eyes glowing and fangs bared in a territorial display as he growled at Scott. The low rumble echoed in the man’s chest as he warned off Scott.

Scott took a step back and Derek returned to nuzzling his face into the curve of Stiles’ neck.

“What the hell happened at that party, Scott?” Stiles asked, trying his hardest to ignore the man as he made a blatantly obvious attempt to scent Stiles.

“He showed up to keep an eye on Isaac and someone offered him a drink,” Scott explained.

“Okay, but at which point did he get to this level of intoxication?” Stiles pushed, rolling his head as Derek shifted his attention to the other side of the boy’s neck. “Because you told me werewolves don’t get drunk.”

“Someone laced the drinks with wolfsbane flowers.”

“And neither of you noticed?” Stiles snapped.

Derek rolled his hips against Stiles’, the bulge in his pants rubbing up against the boy’s thigh.

Stiles gasped, wordless and breathless. He blinked a few time, trying to clear his thoughts as Derek hummed against his shoulder.

“There’s something else you failed to mention,” Stiles growled through his gritted teeth. “Why did you bring him here?”

Scott gestured towards the man. His face weakened to an expression that looked like a sad puppy who had been scolded. “He asked to come see you.”

“Okay, he’s seen me. Now, take him home before my dad gets curious about the sounds and comes to see what’s happening,” Stiles instructed.

Derek pulled back, his glittering aventurine eyes filling with tears of pain. His lips started to quiver as he fought back his sobs.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice strained with caution as he stared at the man.

“I don’t want to go,” Derek whimpered. “I want to stay with you.”

Stiles looked to Scott for help, but the teen raised his hands. “I’m not getting involved in this.”

“Don’t you love me anymore, Stiles?” Derek sobbed.

Stiles swallowed hard.

“Of course I still love you,” Stiles lied… mostly. “But Derek, you’re drunk.”

Derek’s sad expression faded, a smile lifted his cheeks as he began to chuckle.

“I’m not drunk,” he slurred. “I’m Derek. And you’re Stiles. And Scott’s a Pomeranian.”

Stiles smothered his laughter. He took a moment to regain his senses. He drew in a deep breath and said, “Derek, why don’t you go upstairs? We’ll sit in my room for a little while until you’re ready to go to sleep. Sound good?”

Derek smirked mischievously. “Sounds perfect.”

Stiles and Scott watched as the man hurried up the stairs, stumbling over his own feet slightly.

“Are you going to be okay taking care of him on your own?” Scott asked.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered. “At least he’s not an angry drunk.”

Stiles gently patted his friend’s shoulder. “If he causes any trouble, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thanks, man.”

Scott opened the door and made his way back out to his car, leaving Stiles alone by the front door. Stiles stared at the stairs for a moment, and contemplated whether or not to go up. But leaving Derek alone in his intoxicated state could be dangerous. If he was lucky, Derek would already have passed out, either on the floor or on the boy’s bed.

But that was not the case.

Stiles made his way upstairs and opened his door to a sight he was not prepared for: Derek Hale, butt naked, fully erect and sprawled out over the boy’s bed, propped up on his elbows to watch him.

“Oh my God,” Stiles muttered to himself, trying his hardest to keep his eyes off of Derek’s more-than-impressive figure. “I… uh… I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t be too long,” Derek said pleadingly.

He shut the door again, taking a second to breathe deeply and calm himself. He made his way back downstairs and through the lounge room, into the alcove his father called his office. He rarely used it, but the kitchen table was five inches thick in Stiles’ homework, so he was forced to hide away in his own space to complete the paperwork of the cases he had closed that day.

“Dad?” Stiles whispered.

The man turned around, his brow raised quizzically. “Yeah?”

“Can I borrow your handcuffs?” Stiles muttered. “Two pairs if you have them.”

His father stared at him for a moment. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s not as fun as it sounds,” Stiles replied. “I have a drunk friend upstairs and I need to find a way to restrain them before they do something they’ll regret.”

Sheriff Stilinski nodded, content with that answer. He turned around on his chair and opened his desk drawer. He picked up the handcuffs. The cold metal rattling as he handed them over to Stiles.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Call me if you need help,” the man muttered as he turned back to his paperwork.

“Will do,” Stiles replied. He made his way back upstairs. He stopped before his bedroom door, taking a second to brace himself before opening it and entering his bedroom.

Derek whipped his head around, his eyes focusing on the boy. He smiled as Stiles made his way over to the side of the bed.

“Watchya got there?” he asked.

Stiles held up the handcuffs to show him.

Derek’s smile broadened.

“Kinky,” he whispered as he held his hands out before him. “And what am I under arrest for, officer?”

“Public intoxication, public nudity and sexual advances towards and officer,” Stiles played along, fastening the cuff around one of the man’s wrists.

Derek sat up right, latching his lips onto Stiles’. He threaded his elegant fingers through Stiles’ hair, tugging at it lightly.

Stiles let out an involuntary moan, the soft rumble rolling across their lips as the jolt of pain burnt at the back of his scalp.

Derek was drunk, he probably wasn’t aware of how hard he was holding the boy. But he weakened his grip and massaged the boy’s skull with his fingertips.

But the tenderness didn’t last long; Derek opened his mouth, catching Stiles’ plump pink lip between his teeth. He bit down on the warm flesh, hard enough to draw blood. The bitter metallic taste bled into his mouth as he ran his tongue across the boy’s lips and urged him to open his mouth.

Stiles yielded, welcoming the warmth of Derek’s dominating tongue.

He rested his hand against Derek’s chest, feeling his thundering heartbeat.

Derek pulled back to gasp for air before crushing their mouths together again.

It was passion. Pure, unadulterated, savage passion.

Stiles would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it.

Derek trailed his lips down to Stiles’ throat and the boy couldn’t help but roll his head back and expose the sweat-glistening skin that covered the bulge of his Adam’s apple. Derek ravished the pale flesh with a flurry of kisses, gently nipping and sucking at it – instinctually stopping himself from biting hard enough to break the skin, or hard enough to leave a mark at all. He trailed the kisses back up to Stiles’ earlobe, taking it between his teeth and tugging at it gently.

Stiles gasped, panting as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

“Don’t tell me those ‘sexual advances’ aren’t welcome,” Derek purred sultrily.

“Maybe if you were sober, they would be,” Stiles told him.

“I’m not drunk,” Derek objected. His voice softened to a more playful tone. “Werewolves can’t get drunk.”

“Derek,” Stiles said calmly. He raised his hand and held two fingers before the man. “How many fingers?”

“Three with lube,” the man replied before bursting out into laughter.

Stiles was stunned. He took a deep breath and pressed his hand back against Derek’s chest, urging the man to lay back against the mattress. Derek followed his lead, letting Stiles handcuff his hands to the headrest of the bed. He fastened the cuff and sat back.

Derek’s eyes grew wide with shock as he stared at the boy. “Stiles?”

“Yes, Derek?”

The man looked around him. “Where am I?”

“You’re at my place,” Stiles whispered soothingly, gently caressing the man’s chest soothingly.

Derek’s eyelids began to flutter shut. “So tired.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles cooed. “You can go to sleep if you want. You’re safe here.”

“Will you stay with me?” Derek asked.

“Of course,” Stiles promised.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, watched as Derek’s body weakened and he settled into sleep. He pulled the blanket up over Derek’s bare body, bringing his hand back to Derek’s chest. The man hummed, content, as he sank into sleep.

 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 

Stiles rubbed at his face with his hands.

The anaemic light of the morning burnt his sleepless eyes.

“Hey, kiddo,” his dad whispered as he walked through the dining room and into the kitchen.

“Hey, dad,” Stiles muttered.

Sheriff Stilinski went about making his morning coffee. He paused for a moment and made a second one, carefully carrying it over to the table.

Stiles took it from his dad with a grateful smile. He sipped at the warm drink, waiting for the caffeine to seep into his veins and save him from his misery and exhaustion.

“May I ask which of your friends you handcuffed last night?” his father asked as he sat down at the head of the table.

“Derek,” Stiles answered, too tired to care about his father’s judgment or worry.

“And how is he?”

“Stiles!”

The deafening howl split the air.

Stiles exhaled deeply.

“He’s awake,” the boy replied as he set his coffee down and made his way upstairs.

He pushed open his bedroom door, met with Derek’s vicious glare.

“Explain,” the man growled.

“The handcuffs were for my protection and your own,” Stiles said, still too tired to process the man’s rage. “To make sure you didn’t do anything you’d regret.”

“And, why am I naked?” Derek pushed.

“You did that yourself,” Stiles answered. “That’s the thing you were going to regret.”

Derek growled threateningly.

“Hey,” Stiles growled in response. “I put that blanket on you, I made sure you didn’t do anything, I made sure you were safe, and I stayed up all night to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit because you were too stupid to notice that someone had put wolfsbane in your drink, so the least your could do is say thank you, you ungrateful piece of shi-”

“Undo the cuffs, Stiles,” Derek hissed through gritted teeth.

Stiles sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “If I do, you have to promise not to attack me.”

“I won’t,” Derek promised, his voice weakening to something like a plea as he added, “Just… undo the cuffs.”

Stiles crossed the room and unfastened Derek’s shackles. He took a step back, just in case the man went back on his word.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Derek sat upright, rubbing at his wrists. His glittering eyes were darkened with pain. He bowed his head, trying to hide his face in the shadows as soft tears fell from his eyes.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, cautiously taking a step forward. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the man muttered, still rubbing at his wrist as if it were hurting. Werewolf healing should have taken care of any chafing or muscle strain, so maybe it was a nervous tick?

“Derek,” Stiles said softly, sitting down in front of the man and taking his broad hands in his own.

Derek glanced up through his eyelashes at Stiles, watching as the boy looked back at him. Stiles’ chocolate brown irises were full of fear and worry. He sighed and bowed his head again.

“I don’t have a good record of experiences with hand cuffs,” he confessed. “The Argents, the Calaveras… Kate.”

Stiles crawled forward on the wavering mattress. He pulled the man into his arms and held him close. He knew saying sorry was meaningless; it wouldn’t help.

Derek nuzzled his face into the boy’s warmth, gently trailing his fingers down the boy’s back and weakly balling the soft cotton of the Stiles’ shirt into his hand.

“You dare tell anyone about this and I’ll kill you,” Derek muttered.

“I was going to say the same thing,” Stiles whispered, sitting back to look the man in the eye. “And just so you know, you are an incredible kisser. But the next time you kiss me, you’d better be sober.”

Derek hung his head to hide his blush.

Stiles stood up from the bed, collected Derek’s clothes and passed them to the man. He picked up the handcuffs and made his way out of the room. He paused in the doorway, mid-way through shutting the door behind him when he turned to look at Derek.

“And, Derek,” he said, catching the man’s attention. “The next time I put you in handcuffs, I promise it’ll be a good experience.”

He winked and shut the door.

Derek listened as his footsteps vanished down the hallway and downstairs. He couldn’t help but smile, his cheeks flushed read as he mused, “Yeah, next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who wanted a sequel, check out: Old Wounds, New Experiences (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8140855). Warning: NSFW, smut.
> 
> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


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